


Band of Bats

by Ealasaid, writeyourownstory



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: ABBA Fluff, Alternate Universe - Bats, Bats, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Friendships, Gen, Grooming, Hurt/Comfort, POV Alternating, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28697910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ealasaid/pseuds/Ealasaid, https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyourownstory/pseuds/writeyourownstory
Summary: Joseph, Tom, and Ben are all bats at a Bat Sanctuary.  A new bat, bigger than all of them and shrouded in mystery (mostly because he doesn't talk), is brought into the Colony.[Heavily self-indulgent in the sense that we literally just wanted to write about bats in bat-burritos being cute next to each other.]
Relationships: Joseph Blake & Lieutenant Richards & Tom Blake & William Schofield
Comments: 29
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben = Lieutenant Richards/a black flying fox (fruit bat)  
> Will = a gray-headed flying fox fruit bat  
> Joe & Tom = lesser short-nosed fruit bats
> 
> (Alternate story titles: "Taco Bat" and "Bats! Bats! Bats! Bats, Bats, Bats!" bc we are lunatics.) ~ E
> 
> (Mine was “Bats! Bats! Bats! Bats, Bats, Bats!” XD) ~ W

Ben wakes from his nap to the sound of the entrance to their big space opening, the grate of metal and clomping footsteps signifying the Big Creatures that take care of them coming closer. Ben blinks groggy eyes open at the disruption. Several bats near him make disgruntled squeaks and become more active, thinking it is an early feeding time. They were fed not that long ago, so Ben doesn’t waste his energy getting excited. Instead, he spreads his wings and gives a great yawn before tucking himself back in. He feels shifting and adjusts his wings around the two smaller bats clinging to his sides, flexing his claws on the ceiling above him to slow the swaying his movement has caused.

Ben watches lazily as the female Big Creature comes into their area, a folded Soft Thing in her arms (he remembers the Soft Things--being swaddled in one is heavenly). She warbles soothingly as she slowly makes her way through the Big Space. It is then that Ben gets a glimpse of a dark head peeking out of the folds.

Ben perks up as they come closer. A new bat.  _ Interesting. _

The Big Creature takes the bundle to the hanging roost, the platform that hangs from the ceiling with high edges to keep a bat lying in it from falling, where she pulls the folds back to reveal a large bat, with dark wings and red fur that matches Ben-- _ just like him, just like him! _ \--huddled into as small a ball as it can be. The Big Female coos at it, stroking it with her big paws, trying to coax it out of the Soft Thing, but the new bat stays perfectly still, not even blinking. 

The Big Female makes an unhappy sound and rolls the bat from the folds instead, taking care not to touch it with her big paws. The bat lands in the hammock softly, still not moving a muscle. The Big Female clicks and coos a little more before gathering the Soft Thing and making her way out of the Big Space, there and gone again in a matter of minutes.

The bats around Ben chitter in disappointment but he ignores them--all of his focus completely on the bat lying in the hammock.

“New bat?” Tom squeaks from under his left wing, the smaller bat’s head popping up around the fold to get a look at the newcomer. Joe simply huffs on his right, completely uninterested as he continues to sleep.

“Looks like,” Ben answers. His curiosity is burning. He starts to nudge the twins off of him, ignoring their sleepily shrill protests. “Shift off. I’m going to check it out.”

He makes sure the twins have grabbed on to the crossed ceiling securely and tells them to wait for him to check it out first before crawling his way over to the hanging roost. He uses his thumb claws to grab on to the hanging fabric before dropping down from the ceiling into the soft confines. 

The new bat is still huddled in the same spot the Big Creature left it, and now that Ben is closer, he can see it is not completely still. It is trembling-- _ hard _ \--so much so that Ben can feel the vibrations through the thick fabric. The scent of male and bat and  _ brethren _ hit him strongly. 

So does the pungent stench of fear. His heart starts beating faster just from the smell of it.

Ben ignores that for now. "Bright night to you, brother," he says first, because it is polite. The new bat does not reply. He does not seem to have even heard it. 

Ben has seen this a time or two, where new bats are so frightened of whatever brought them here that they can't respond. Normally he does not bother to try coaxing the new brother or sister out; Ben is too big and just frightens those new bats even more. This bat, however, is even bigger than he is and so Ben thinks he can attempt to bring him out of it without being too intimidating.

He crawls closer. When the new bat still does not move (besides the trembling), Ben reaches out and pats him with his wing-claws.

It is a shock to the new bat. The squeak the new wing-brother emits has no meaning behind it besides horrible fright. Ben knows it is a little intimate, but he makes himself free with the new bat's snout anyway and licks his nose reassuringly. Big Creatures don't do that. 

\--Success! The next time Ben pats the new bat, he shudders sharply and the trembling eases. He moves, too, jerkily covering his head with his wings.

"None of that, now," Ben says, not unkind. He busies himself with a presumptuous head-grooming and casually knocks back one of the bat's wings before he can hide completely. "You're with  _ brethren _ and safe." 

The new bat seems stymied by this; he doesn't try to cover his head again. Ben settles into it with a will; this one smells uncomfortably like the stench of that Bright Space where Big Creatures poke you and everything smells sharp. 

"I'm Ben, by the way," Ben adds when he has finished the new bat's ears and the new bat's trembling has stopped entirely. "What's your name?"

Before the new bat can reply, there is a squeak and a thump as Tom lands on the hammock. The new bat flinches. Ben pats him again to reassure him. 

"Can we meet the new one yet?" Tom cheeps sleepily, crawling up into Ben's space. 

"This is Tom," Ben says to the new bat. "He's not as young as he acts, I promise."

Tom sniffs at the new bat's snout. "Bright night," he says as an afterthought, because he was raised by Big Creatures and has no manners whatsoever. The new bat blinks at him.

"Here, help me with grooming," Ben tells Tom. "He smells like the Bright Space."

"Gross," Tom agrees. 

Together, they get through the rest of the new bat's shoulder-fur. He flinches when they try to get him to extend his wings and flinches again when Joe thumps into the hammock much the way Tom did. Joe, further demonstrating his and Tom's unsociable upbringing, barely stays awake through the introductions and promptly snuffles his way up and under Ben's wing when they are finished, which of course sets Tom off anew.

"You're like pups," Ben complains, but he rolls over and lets Tom crawl in as well. Of more note, the new bat watches this with great interest, craning his head over Ben's shoulder to observe the proceedings. To him, Ben adds, "Sorry about that. You don't mind if I roost here for the day, do you?"

The new bat blinks again. He still doesn't say anything but he definitely heard Ben. He seems to consider it for a second before he tucks his nose under the tip of his wing and lets his eyes settle half-closed. It is not a no, certainly. 

"Much obliged," Ben replies as though it was a verbal acknowledgement. "It's a pleasure to meet another of us larger brothers."

#  🦇

When the Big Creatures enter the space again, several hours later, they come bearing food. Ben takes his time waking up, yawning widely; he wouldn't mind a few more moments of sleep but he hasn't a chance of it, not with Tom and Joe's excited squeaking and wriggling to get free so they can go try for their favorites.

Courteously, Ben checks their new wing-brother. Surprisingly, he has not woken: he is wrapped as tightly as before and does not stir, not even when Tom scrambles over his claws. --Well, he probably needs it. He can't have gotten much sleep at all, being brought to This Space in the middle of the day, anyhow.

Ben gets to the edge and, leisurely, takes off. He is the biggest bat in the Colony, which is lonely, but during feeding time it is nice, because it means every other wing-brother and -sister get out of his way. The end result means that he gets several helpings of banana and some apple, his two favorites, in no time at all. 

Their new brother is left alone by the rest of the Colony. It is probably due to his size. Ben has always had to make an extra effort at ingratiating himself with the rest of the Colony, being the largest; he can guess it is the same for the new wing-brother.

He is awake when Ben climbs his way back up into the hanging roost. He is significantly more alert, too, and blinks at Ben when Ben reappears.

"Bright night, brother," Ben says. The response he gets is a nose twitch, which is the same response that Tom gets when he flutters over to them and settles in for post-meal grooming. "There's food if you want some, I'm sure you can smell it. There are some lovely green bananas tonight, though they probably won't last long . . ."

"Nope, they're gone," Tom says cheerfully. "Joe ate the last one. Sorry, brother."

"Melon, then," Ben says. "And apples, today."

This produces no response besides some attentive nose twitches. Slowly, very slowly, the large new bat unfurls his right wing and uses the thumb-claw to roll himself over. His movement is hampered by how he keeps his left wing curled tightly about him as he gingerly inches towards the edge of the hammock.

It looks as though he is considering the distance. Ben can tell that it will be difficult for him to do anything without using his left wing to help steady himself, and the new bat seems to recognise this as well. His ears flatten and he scoots away from the edge with his head low. 

"You're going to have to go sooner or later," Ben says, trying to sound encouraging. It doesn't work. The new brother huddles in the corner and sighs.

"There's always food left over," Tom tells him. "Don't worry, Sco. You can get some later."

Ben probably shouldn't ask. Tom doesn't usually make sense on a good night, anyway. "Sco?" he asks, anyway.

Tom scratches behind his ear. "Sure, why not? It's easier than calling him brother."

"Is that even a name?" Ben wants to know.

"I dunno. It's better than no name at all, though."

Ben turns to the new brother to see what he makes of all of this. He has turned and curled in on himself again, though, and isn't looking at either of them.

Tom notices. "Hey, sorry," he squeaks, patting at the newcomer's head with soft claws. "If you don't like it, we can call you something else . . ."

The new bat just sighs again, ears flicking forward and back again in acknowledgement. Sco it is.

Ben stays near Sco for most of the night. Sco continues not to speak, and there are some periods of time where he is definitely not awake, but Ben is patient and does not mind the quiet. Joe and Tom flutter over to them both frequently anyway, in between the play, and chatter enough to entertain them both. In the very early morning though, as the night draws to a close, Ben insists that the twins and he leave for the day. They have intruded enough on Sco's time as it is.

This is when Sco has his worst moments of the first full day. 

It is when the Big Creatures come in. They do this twice a day, usually, bringing food and making the space smell less like Colony. All the Colony bats are used to this activity, but Scho is not: Sco reacts terribly. Ben and Tom and Joe are roosting in their usual spot at this point but they are still close enough to hear Sco's frightened whimpering, soft as a pup's, when the Big Creatures come in, and then observe his frantic stillness when the Big Creatures get close enough to reach him.

"Ben?" Joe asks from inside his wings, which makes Ben realise there is some strange wriggling on both sides of him. Joe's head pops free after a moment. "What's wrong? You're squeezing really tightly."

"Sco is scared," Ben says, and makes a conscious effort to relax. It gets harder when the scent of fear hits his nose.

Tom appears, too. All three of them watch the strange Rituals of the Big Creatures as they pick Sco up and replace the Soft Things with new Soft Things. Even after they put him down, Sco stays frozen and silent in sheer terror.

The whole Colony gets restless. One frightened wing-brother makes for many uneasy wing-brethren and Ben is no different.

"Maybe we should go join him again?" Joe suggests, shifting unhappily.

"He wasn't so scared when we were with him," Tom agrees, already crawling free.

The two twins take off, adeptly maneuvering around the Big Creatures. Ben does not bother. He has not got enough room for a clear takeoff and he can get there just fine by climbing.

Tom and Joe are already huddling next to Sco when he reaches them. Joe is trying to comb through some of Sco's fur with his thumb claws, a heartfelt mite-check, and Tom has stuck what looks like his whole face into one of Sco's ears. Even from here, Ben can hear his chittering. 

Ben joins in, licking a stripe down Sco's snout. Sco is trembling all over as though he is very cold. It seems like the least Ben can do to carefully extend one wing and cover the bigger bat's head with it.

"They're finished with this part," he tells Sco soothingly, feeling out what the problem is. "They aren't coming back here."

Sco blinks but does not reply otherwise. His trembling does not ease quickly, either, not for a long while, but the scent of his fear does. When Ben retracts his wing after the Big Creatures leave, Sco blinks some more and shyly licks Ben's nose in thanks.

#  🦇

Intruding Big Creatures or not, their new brother doesn’t leave the hanging roost for a good couple of days after his arrival. He lies huddled in the corner as tremors wrack his body intermittently. Sco is very warm when Ben checks on him and he still never says anything, but he is always much soothed when Ben takes the time to groom and chat. Nothing succeeds in coaxing Sco out of the hammock, though, not anything, so the three of them resort to bringing food to the new bat more than once for fear of him starving to death. 

By the fourth morning, Ben has given up the pretense of letting Sco have space, and has companionably staked out a temporary roost next to the bigger bat. Tom and Joe spend more time crawling all over Sco and snuffling in his fur (demonstrating a terribly inappropriate understanding of intimacy overall) than complaining about the change.

"Big," Joe declares, tucking himself under Sco's snout.

_ "Big," _ Tom affirms next to him, nearly ecstatic. 

Try though the two of them might, they do not get to curl up in Sco's creche-space as Sco stubbornly keeps his wings wrapped tight about himself despite the twins' most earnest efforts to wriggle under them. It is a Big Deal to Tom and Joe and they are very disappointed but, as it turns out, there is a reason for Sco’s skittish nature: he has a mangled left wing. Sco keeps it tucked to his body and it is for this reason that he does not leave the hammock. 

The mangled wing is not necessarily a surprise. Ben figured there must be  _ something _ wrong. Sco still flinches away when Ben or Tom or Joe get too close to that left wing while grooming, after all, and he never extends the wing either, not even to right himself if one of the brothers is too exuberant. --And all right, so Ben is curious about it, but it isn't polite to ask and Tom and Joe's questions make Sco quiver unhappily, so Ben doesn't pry. Really! Later, he wonders if he ever would have seen it at all had the Big Creatures decided not to interfere.

When it happens, it is the most dramatic event of the Colony's month. The whole thing happens a week after Sco’s arrival and begins when the Big Female comes in for regular feeding time. She brings an assortment of fruits and nuts that has all of the bats clamoring. Joe and Tom take off immediately, chittering something about sweet melon as they throw themselves into the fray. Ben is slower to join them, sensing Sco’s unease with the Big Female so near. She is on the other side of the Big Space, though, greeting the other bats with her pudgy claws and warbling coos. Ben’s stomach growls as he watches the others munch on their pieces of fruit and he licks his lips. Surely Sco will be alright while he goes to eat?

“I’ll be back,” Ben promises. Sco merely blinks at him with large eyes, his ears twitching nervously. Ben gives the large bat a pat with one of his claws. “I’ll bring you some banana, yeah? Can’t have Joe eating all of it again.”

Sco huffs in response, but he does not try to stop Ben. He is not shaking, which is a good sign. Ben gives him a reassuring lick to the snout before climbing out of the hanging roost and making his way to the feeding area.

Tom and Joe are stuffing themselves with gooey melon when he gets there, both of their faces a complete mess. The rest of the smaller bats part as Ben clambers onto the feeding tree, hesitantly making way for him. Ben pays them no mind as he grabs for an apple, tearing into the rind and happily munching on the juicy fruit. He loves apples, loves the crunch in his jaws: there is something so satisfying in the resistance. Bananas are everyone's favorite, but for him, it is apples.

He is going in for another bite when he notices the Big Female over by their roost. Ben does not know when she got there but, once he notices her, he pays attention. It looks like she is investigating it, pulling aside the hanging claw-hold to look inside, which cannot be making Sco very happy right now. 

It is then his sensitive ears pick up the whimpering—high pitched and frighted, like a pup’s chirrup: a familiar cry that Ben has heard before. 

It is short, pipped out, volume and rhythm escalating rapidly in a  _ chip chip CHIP _ of sound that turns into a full-blown screech.  _ "NO, NO, NO," _ Sco is screaming, the first words any of them have heard from him, ever, in a language that even the Big Female should be able to comprehend. It blasts through the Colony and most of their brethren pauses even in the middle of the feast. The hanging roost rocks violently. 

"What?" Ben shouts back amid a flurry of other chirped inquiries, horribly alarmed. Sco hates the Big Creatures getting close, but he has never reacted like  _ this. _ "Sco? What's wrong?"

Sco just keeps screaming, though, all  _ "NO NO NO NO NO NO N--" _

Ben launches himself when the sounds abruptly cut off in a shrill squeal that sets his fur crawling. He is not the only one -- Joe is flying next to him, swifter and nimbler, darting in for a closer look at the situation in the hanging roost while Ben can only catch on the ceiling and try stretching down. Neither of them dare to get too close to the Big Female: though she has only ever treated Ben with Soft Things and Soothing Coos, Sco is not reacting like that. Sco sounds like his wings are broken and his mate is dead and his pup is being eaten in front of him.

"Sco?" Ben calls, Joe echoing him. Night only knows where Tom has got to, Ben thinks feverishly. "Sco?"

Sco is not visibly, alarmingly noisome as the Big Female gently pulls him free from the hanging roost's claw-drapery. He is frozen again but the pup-high whimper does not stop, chirring high, higher,  _ high -- so _ high, high enough that almost everyone has stopped eating and is searching for the source. (--Pups are hard to ignore, even for the males, and now is no exception.)

Ben sways where he hangs. He has never met any pups of his but he has comforted Tom and Joe so many times that the urge to go to Sco -- whose call is deeper and louder than they will ever be -- is a desperate lure, a siren's song. He cannot help Sco, not with the Big Female there, but he  _ wants to-- _

Instead, he watches as she fusses with Sco, grasping at his wings while Sco looks at her with wide-eyed terror and ceases making noise altogether. There is nothing about Sco in that regard: there is nothing of a brother there. It is another Creature she grasps in her claws, frightened out of living into the Death-Silence; it is another Creature whose wing is freed and spread, a grotesque spectacle of what Should Be.

Ben can hear the whistling gaps in the membrane, sense the shivering whisper of ill-knit bone. Sco's left wing is a horrible mess, a ragged thing of torn skin and broken claws. It sings wrongly to everything Ben has, but, most especially, because it  _ feels _ wrongly. This is not healed, not yet.

In her claws, Sco's wing flexes. It moves. Sco does not voice anything, frozen into passivity as he is, but the joints scream and the skin weeps and the fur cries out for him. It is wrong, wrong,  _ wrong, _ the pain is unmistakable, and Ben is frozen with his wing-brother, stunned with sympathetic agony. He clicks with distress, unable to stop.

It goes on for  _ ages. _ Finally, the Big Female puts Sco back into the hanging roost. Sco lies there with his wing wrenched out, curling slowly inward despite the numbing shock as she strokes his head-fur with her pudgy claws and croons. Then she leaves the Big Space. 

Ben drops. Sco does not react when Ben's weight lands, the thump audible throughout the Space. He stays where he is, petrified, even as Ben's scrambling makes the hanging roost sway wildly. Ben cheeps soft inquiries all the while, fearful his newest biggest brother is Death-Quiet for real, and unfortunately cannot claim he is reassured even though Sco's song beats still. 

"C'mon, Sco," Ben chirps, trying all the obnoxiously overly-intimate nuzzles that Tom and Joe know, desperate to provoke a reaction. He licks Sco's nose, sticks his snout in Sco's ears, and even nips at Sco's belly-fur, all to no avail. Sco’s eyes are rolling wildly, hardly seeing him as whatever horrors are playing out his head takes his full attention.

Ben doesn't know what to do. It is awkward when they aren't hanging Free, but he still does his best to wrap his own wings around Sco and offer Closeness as comfort. If it will ease the tremors that rock the whole roost, Ben will do anything. "Sco," he chirps and clicks, trying to get a reaction -- any reaction. "C'mon, Sco!"

In the middle of licking Sco’s face and chittering reassurances in his ear, Ben hears Joe and Tom’s worried squeaks from where they hang on the drapery. 

“Ben?” Joe chirps. “Is he all right? What’s going on?”

“Sco!” Tom calls worriedly, ignoring Ben altogether. He is bobbing up and down, trying to see the larger bat around Ben. “Sco!”

Joe makes the decision to drop down first, impatient with Ben’s lack of response. Tom is right after him and they both crowd into the huddle, each going for Sco with a single-minded determination. Joe easily scrambles under Ben's wings and crawls over Sco, burying his face in their larger brother’s side-fur, while Tom joins Ben and aggressively nuzzles underneath Sco’s chin. 

Tom runs his claws over Sco’s fur frantically and Ben knows the smaller bat is at a loss for what to do. “It’s alright, Sco--look, see? They’re gone now. You’ll be all right.” 

With a great wracking shudder, Sco moves. The left wing is clumsily pulled in. Joe scoots out of the way as it shakily folds in against Sco's body. It is then that Sco blinks, and gasps, and trembling sets in fiercely -- but he notices they are there. He licks his own nose nervously and would try to tuck his head down and out of sight from embarrassment, but Tom is in the way.

"What was all that about, hmm?" Ben churrs at him, striving for a tone that is gentle despite still getting over the fright of his life.

Sco shakes his head, shrinking further. Tom squeaks as he is squeezed out of his space and, grumbling, huddles with Joe in the creche-space under Sco's right wing.

"Hurts," Sco whispers. His voice is a rasp, rough and strained. "Like the bite-vines."

Ben pats his face in reassurance. "There aren't any of those here," he says, although in truth he has very little idea what bite-vines are. "And the Big Female is gone. You're safe now."

Sco shivers but there is no denying this reassures him considerably. He licks Ben's nose in thanks and starts to fold in his right wing, but Tom and Joe are still in the way and stay there, unrepentantly unmoving.

"So now that you're talking, are you going to tell us your name?" Joe chirps, eyes bright.

"We can keep calling you Sco, though," Tom says, generously. "If it's better than your actual name."

Sco's nose twitches; he huffs. "You two have the manners of a blind bat," Ben complains. "This is hardly an appropriate time to ask!"

"It's fine," Sco says in his soft voice. He pats both Tom and Joe at the same time with his huge wing and looks up at Ben, still hovering by his head. "I'm Will. Bright night to you, brothers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally spawned by seeing [this post](https://finnsgetawayland.tumblr.com/post/639314518167699456/paddysnuffles-zooophagous-g0dziiia) on tumblr and idly brainstorming them all as orphaned bats -- and then it ballooned, dramatically, and became a bat rescue, and lots of snuggles, and . . . well, anyway, if you liked this, let @writeyourownstory know because she had ALL THE BAT RESOURCES! ~ E
> 
> I’d blame Ealasaid for this, but honestly I’m the one who happily continued it! XD lmao I’ll also credit Megabattie on YouTube for inspiring the Bat Sanctuary bit—my god am I obsessed with her videos. Ealasaid is right, though—all we wanted was bat snuggles and it TURNED INTO AN OBSESSION. :D Also she is not wrong, I do have all the bat resources. Hit me up. ;) ~ W


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny dictionary: telling time through Bat Moon Phases --  
>  _New Bud = First Quarter  
>  Big Bud = Half Moon  
> Small Bloom = Third Quarter  
> Full Bloom/"the Blossom" = Full Moon._  
> The full cycle is called the "Night Bloom"
> 
> Also, POV switch!

It is a stiflingly hot evening in the big space. 

Most of the other bats hate when it gets this hot, but Tom loves it: the Big Creatures bring them all chilled fruits during feeding time. Cold melons and grapes and bananas really scratch the spot on such a humid day and, as Tom partakes of as many pieces of melon as he can get his claws on, he thinks contentedly that such weather suits him well.

. . . Granted, Tom can usually only stomach a few pieces before he’s absolutely full, but he manages to find the biggest pieces he can and devours them in record time—as per usual. Joe, he notices, had opted for the grapes, while Ben is chewing away on half of a banana. (The other half, Tom knows, will be saved for Will, who is still uncomfortable with leaving the hanging roost. Will is lovely and all, but Tom sometimes wonders why Ben makes the effort . . . ) 

—Anyway! Everyone loves bananas, and grapes are good and all, but— _ melons. _ That’s what it’s all about! The sweet juices alone are enough to have Tom chittering in pleasure and he laps them up as eagerly as he munches on the deliciously crunchy flesh.  _ So good. _

If only it weren't so  _ messy. _ Melon is lovely, yes, but those juices it has means he  _ always _ ends up a complete mess of mislaid fur. Tom doesn’t know how—he really doesn’t—but no matter how careful he is or how slowly he eats, he finds that he ends up covered in fruit juice.

Now that he isn't chowing down Tom can already feel it coating his fur. He sighs despairingly. Time to pay the price for glutting himself on the sweet, sweet melon: grooming. He extracts himself from the rest of the feeding bats and takes off for the hanging roost, which of late has become their go-to roosting spot. 

Predictably, Will is resting amongst the folds of soft things when he gets there. He has his bad wing tucked tightly to his body even while he uses his right claw to comb his chest fur. Tom makes himself comfortable in the claw-drapery above the larger bat and makes his own attempts to clean himself of the melon juice. It is starting to become quite uncomfortable. 

Tom is able to twist and bend enough to reach the most bothersome parts, running his tongue over his fur and under his wings and in the furthest crevices to dispose of (munch) the bits of fruit he missed before but, to Tom’s complete frustration, he is unable to reach his back very well. Usually he relies on Joe or an agreeable Ben to help because his tongue refuses to get the tricky spot between his shoulder blades, but neither of them are conveniently available just yet. Tom spends a few minutes struggling fruitlessly to twist his neck just right to reach but eventually his patience wears thin and he gives up. He will just have to wait to ask Joe or Ben to help with it when they return.

With a quick shake of his wings to stretch himself, Tom decides to see what Will is up to. He lets go of the drapery and plops down onto the soft things beside the larger bat, who has taken to gingerly grooming the inside fold of his bad wing and is turned away from Tom. 

Tom squeaks a hello as he crawls closer because Ben told him and Joe it was bad to startle Will, so Tom does his best not to do that. He remembers being small and—and small, and easily startled; he is still small, compared to Ben and Will, and things still startle him (and he hates it), so he squeaks loudly and hopes it is good enough. Since Will flicks an ear in his direction, Tom is confident he has nailed it.

"Will, Will, have you eaten yet?" he calls as he clambers up Will's side to the more comfortable chest space. Tom isn't entirely without courtesy, thank you; he stops in the patch of fur Will has already cleaned. "There's melon!"

Will pauses in his grooming. For a moment, Tom thinks he has made a mistake with how Will stops and turns to stare at Tom, eyes huge and unblinking, wing still outstretched—but then Will's nose twitches with interest.

"No," he says, soft, "but you need cleaning . . . ?"

"Yes!" Tom cries, pleasantly surprised. He makes himself comfortable. It is easy to do: Will is  _ huge. _

Obligingly, Will hooks a wing-claw over Tom and pulls a little until Tom squirms further up and more in reach of Will's tongue. It rasps pleasantly over his head a moment later, and then behind his ears; Tom squeaks with ecstatic delight because, within moments, Will is deftly neatening the fur between Tom's shoulders and Tom is finally free of that sticky itch. Ooo, but it is  _ so _ satisfying!! Will sure was an odd addition to the Colony at first, Big or not, but Tom supposes that even the strangest of Brethren can become less so with time the way Will has.

Will nibbles at mites, next, and Tom chitters in appreciation. It is  _ divine, _ this feeling, this sense of Big Security and Belonging that comes with being groomed by a Big bat—

"Tom!" Ben shrills, landing with a  _ fwump _ of displaced air. Tom squeaks in surprise. "Where are your  _ manners?" _

Will freezes where he is. His wings clamp tight around Tom, but it is a mistake. Tom doesn't even have time to chip out his own displeasure at the squeeze when Will flinches violently and then becomes caught in a moment of trying to close his bad wing around them both and recoiling from the discomfort of it. He makes short, ragged crying noises that are very scary. He is not safe right now.

Tom scrambles off and straight up under Ben's wing at the startle, fur thoroughly on end. There is a shrillness to Will's noises that make Tom want to bite something, a shrillness that grates and makes him want to flee . . . but Ben is Big and Warm and Safe and much calmer and so Tom does neither of those things.

Ben clicks in dismay and backs away carefully, calling out as he goes. "Sorry Will—Will, it's all right. It's just me, you're safe . . ."

"You said never to startle him!" Tom squeaks at Ben, very disapproving. Ben ought to know better; Ben was raised by Brethren, after all, and he's the one who told Tom and Joe in the first place. "Now look, he's all shocked and upset!"

"I didn't mean— oh, nevermind," Ben growls low enough that Will won't hear it. "Hush for a moment, will you?"

"He's scary like this," Tom grumbles, but takes care to keep his voice down. He muffles it in Ben's fur. "Why'd you have to go and surprise him like that?"

Ben ignores him and croons soothingly until Will's twitches don't rock the hanging roost so much and he is just shivering. Tom feels free to climb out and offer what comfort he can, then, but of course now Will's wings are tucked so tightly around himself that Tom hasn't a chance of squirming under them. Ugh. A perfectly good grooming,  _ ruined. _

"Sorry," Will whispers when Tom curls up next to the larger bat's ear. He is still trembling in odd fits and huge shivers wrack him intermittently.

"No, I'm sorry," Ben says before Tom can get a squeak in edgewise.

"You'd better be," Tom tells him, tartly. "It was fine! We were fine!"

"You were—argh," Ben chatters at Tom, annoyed. "Never mind! Anyway, I'm sorry, Will, I shouldn't have surprised you like that."

Will doesn't say anything. He offers a mournful lick up the side of Ben's snout that makes Ben huff and crouch closer, and the black bat lets out an odd sort of creel that seems full of genuine contrition. In any case, he offers Will a wing for cover until Will's shaking ceases and he is comfortable enough to eat the banana chunk that Ben brought with him.

Tom isn't interested in sticking around for all this, though, and anyway, he can tell that Ben is going to screech at him when Ben gets the chance. (Probably something about not being inappropriately in another bat's space, again, as if Tom and Joe haven't both heard  _ that _ one a million times since Will came.) It's best not to be around, if Tom can help it. —What's Joe up to?

#  🦇

The Bloom has gone from Bud to Blossom when Ben pulls Tom and Joe aside to confront them about not bringing Will food any longer.

Truthfully, Tom just keeps forgetting. He eats first, and sometimes he gets really excited about eating, and then he eats too much, and carrying fruit bits when he is full is  _ hard. _ Besides, Ben is always good about it; it isn't like Will is starving or anything.

"I don't care," Ben says when Tom voices this. "He should be getting better, faster, but he's not. I don't think he's getting enough, so you two will have to help me with it."

"But he's Big!" Tom objects. And carrying food when he's full is  _ hard! _

"Shhhh," Ben hisses and whaps him lightly with a wing. Tom ducks out of the way with an indignant squeak but that doesn't stop him swaying drastically where they hang on the ceiling. He has to flutter his wings rapidly to steady himself.

"Bringing food to Brethren is what Mums do," Joe adds from the other side of Ben, and very reasonably.

_ "We're _ not Big.  _ Will _ is Big!" Tom throws in, warming up to the logic. Mums are Big, so it only makes sense that Ben brings food to Will. "Just like you!"

Ben chitters with annoyance, but not before throwing a worried look at Will. Will naps below, blissfully asleep in the hanging roost; it took a very lengthy period of time, but he has finally calmed down after the Big Female intruded and did more of that thing where she made Will pretend to fly but mostly upset him a lot. "Yes, I know," Ben says, with an edge to his screech that grates uncomfortably. "But you know he can't make it over properly, and I can't bring him everything he needs."

"It's been a while," Joe points out. "Like, a  _ long _ while. He has been here for almost a whole Night Bloom!"

“Yeah, and he never leaves the hanging roost!” Tom chirps, backing up his twin stoutly.

Ben sighs. "You've seen his wing! He can't."

"But shouldn't he? You told us a bat without wings wasn't a bat at all," Joe clicks, staccato in the way that means he is unhappy with something. "If he doesn't use them . . ."

Tom loses his enthusiasm for his twin. It is a common saying in the Colony; now that he thinks about it, though, Tom doesn't know why. --Anyway, Tom isn't sure he likes  _ that _ idea so much, not if it is being said about Will.

Ben clearly doesn't like the idea either because he makes a nasty shrilling sound. "The reason we fly food back to pups is because they can't fly yet themselves," Ben bites out. His teeth are showing from how agitated he is and Tom chitters in discomfort. "That doesn't mean they aren't bats, does it?"

"But you said--"

"I know what I said!" All of Ben's fur is standing on end; he looks a good size larger than he normally does. "And  _ now _ I'm saying that -- well, if there's an exception for pups, I'm sure there's an exception for bats like Will."

Tom squeaks, thoroughly confused now. Granted, he hasn't had a lot of Proper Bat Upbringing, not like Ben has, but Tom doesn't like it when things are true one night and aren't true the next.

"So . . . Will is a pup?" he asks, uncertain.

"Of course he isn't," Joe chips automatically. "He's Big."

"Well yeah, but if we're bringing him food--"

_ "--like _ a pup, it's not that he  _ is _ a pup--"

From below, there's an abrupt snapping noise. In tandem, all three of them fall silent and look down to see that Will is awake again. For some reason, he has now rolled onto his belly and is crawling away as quietly as he can. Tom feels awful: Will's ears are flat and he does not look at any of them as he slinks like one of those sneaky brown rats into the corner that is the furthest away from them.

"It doesn't matter whether he is or isn't a pup,  _ he is a bat," _ Ben snaps much more quietly once Will has stopped moving again, and that is how Tom and Joe and Ben spend the next night ferrying different bits of fruit over to Will.

Well, not all at once. When Joe and Tom and Ben bring over the first offerings -- a grape, a bit of apple, and a bit of melon, respectively -- Will ignores them totally and stuffs his face further into the corner, wings wrapped tightly around himself. When Will doesn't respond after Ben and Joe and even Tom try for a quick, friendly cuddle and a bit of persuasion, Ben gets a particularly funny expression on his face and tells Tom and Joe to go hang out of sight for a bit.

The frackas that follows is  _ spectacular. _ It can be heard throughout the Big Space and arrests the attention of the entire Colony. Truthfully, Tom doesn't follow a lot of it (it's in a peculiar register of bat-speech that maybe only belongs to the biggest species? No one else seems to know what they are screaming, either) but it is clear that while Ben is the louder at the start, he is not the only one raising a fuss by the end. The hanging roost shakes wildly, wings that are black and red make an appearance, and anyone who flies too close gets snapped at with a pointed set of teeth or whapped by an errant, irritated wing. 

At the end of it, Ben calls them back up. He's sporting a fresh set of scratches that will need cleaning and his fur is in total disarray, but that seems to be the only thing that has changed: Will is still pressed up against the side in the corner. 

Joe chips with his utter dismay at Ben's state and immediately sets to work fussing over the scratches, climbing all over Ben in the process. "What under the Bloom were you doing?" he demands.

"Nothing worth mentioning," Ben chirrs, clearly still agitated. He firmly fends off Joe and nudges him back down onto the Soft Things. "Joe, Tom -- you brought Will some fruit, yes?"

From the side, Will whispers, "They did." 

He hasn't got a set of scratches like Ben has but, of the two of them, Will definitely seems to have come off the worse. His ears are flat against his head and his eyes are enormous with something that certainly tells Tom that Will Feels Bad. 

Tom clicks with disapproval.  _ "Now _ what have you done?" he asks, rounding on Ben. "He looks even worse!" 

Will looks like he dearly wants to scrunch down even more at this. Instead, he straightens with some awkwardness and says, "I'm sorry about ignoring you earlier. It was kind of you to help me."

"Oh," Tom says. He didn't expect that. "Oh, well -- sorry for forgetting to bring some before, a lot . . . ?"

Ben huffs at that. Joe chirrups softly in the way that means he's mulling something over, but he doesn't say anything about it when Tom looks to his twin for an explanation.

Will's ears flick uncertainly. "That's all right," he says, soft, and Tom gets the sense that it is True.

After that, things go much more smoothly. Ben's ears are pressed straight back and he watches Will unblinkingly as Tom and Joe bring him the grape and apple. In return, Will keeps one eye on Ben all while he tentatively munches the bits that Tom and Joe brought him and then politely thanks them each, again.

The upshot, so far as Tom is concerned, is that, in the morning, Will is entirely amenable to Tom snuggling under his wing. Joe sleeps with Ben as usual, but Tom gets Will all to himself (until the Big Female comes, anyway), and Ben doesn't even scold him for it.

(Well, besides reminding Tom to ask politely, first, next time. Tom can do that, probably.)

#  🦇

"You can do this, Will!" Joe chirps.

Tom adds his chirping to his twin's, making an encouraging chorus. Will's clambering progress is slow and a little bit unsteady, but literally every other bat takes one look at him lumbering along the top of the Big Space and squeaks the heck out of Will's way. He is the largest bat in the Colony and now that he is out of the hanging roost, bulk fully on display, everyone is skittish.

—Everyone except Tom and Joe and Ben, of course. Will wouldn't hurt a fly! Well, okay, maybe one that was on his fruit or something. Like a fruit fly. And mites! He's hell on mites. But anyway he wouldn't hurt another bat because Tom has seen  _ so _ many other bats get way too close into Will's wing-space who aren't Tom or Joe or Ben and Will has never done anything to any of them. It makes it especially funny that they are all so wary around him now.

Ben chips with distress. "We can keep roosting where we were," he says, keeping pace with Will's very slow and careful clawholds. 

"If I stay they will keep coming," Will replies. Each time he grasps at the vines at the top of the Big Space with his bad wing, he shakes, and his ears are flat against his skull from the strain he so clearly feels. He is panting from the exertion already. "It's not safe."

Tom is not so sure that moving means Will would be safer. Tom thinks the Big Creatures come wherever and he's fairly certain he's seen them find even the sneakiest of Brethren before. Judging by Ben's equally-flattened ears, he is just as unsure. This is probably why he keeps chipping without meaning, the kind that is just a rambling sort of unhappiness, but Will ignores this and keeps moving. 

"It'll be nice to be back in our old roost," Joe comments wistfully from his vine.

"Then we can sleep in the sun!" Tom agrees. The hanging roost is nice for being lazy, but during the day it is always in the shade.

Will's bad claw slips. Joe and Tom both squeak in alarm as Will gives a horrific lurch, about to fall, but Ben is ready and bracing against Will immediately. Tom is amazed at how Ben hooks a wing about Will to keep him up and chirrups so calmly despite his distress a moment ago while Tom and Joe both flutter closer, hovering in case they are needed. 

"A break," Ben says firmly when Will has a solid hold again, hanging by his good wing and his footclaws. There is no arguing with Ben when he Clicks Like That, not that Tom would: Will is trembling like when he gets startled. 

Despite this, Will seems determined to continue anyway. "I can get a little further," he argues. He makes as though to restart his progress, but Joe puts a stop to that when he adeptly maneuvers to a claw-hold right in front of the bigger bat.

"A snack!" Tom declares instead, landing next to Joe. He pats Will comfortingly (and on his side, nowhere that will make Ben squeak about impropriety). Tom is hungry anyway.

"Absolutely," Ben agrees immediately as Will blinks bemusedly at Joe and Tom, now in his way. Tom chirps with surprise; Ben never does that. "You stay here, Will, Tom will get you something."

"Oh," Will says, seeming bewildered by how they have all cornered him. 

"What?" Tom squeaks. Joe thwaps him with a wing. Well, if he's going to be like that . . . "Oh! Yes. Me and Joe. We'll bring you grapes!"

"Grapes are good," Will says uncertainly, flicking a look at Ben as his ears tip sideways.

"Here, try regular hanging," Ben suggests as Tom hits Joe back and then drops before Joe can retaliate. They race to the nearest cluster of grapes.

It's the small ones this evening, the very sweet ones. They are an absolute treat. Most are gone already, but Tom gets two or three to himself before Joe reminds him about Will, but Tom saw how Joe gobbled at  _ least _ two grapes when he thought Tom wasn't looking. Still, a few are rescued for Will. Tom carefully snags one with his footclaw and feels very clever when he manages to time his drop for take-off so that he can snatch another with his free claw. 

When Tom flutters back over to Ben and Will (who is still being slightly supported by Ben), he feels a bit less clever when he realises he has no way to land with one in each footclaw. Hmmmm. Maybe if he flies straight at the top of the Big Space, though, he can hang just from his wing-claws for a moment . . .

Will is hanging from his own two footclaws and none of his weight is on his wings, so he shouldn't be too startled. "I'm landing near you!" Tom clicks in warning to Will and flaps, hard. 

"Wait—" Ben starts, but Tom is coming in fast before he can overthink things and mess it up. He hasn't tried this before but it's just like how they crawl around anyway, just a little faster, and—okay. Tom chitters with disappointment as he feels one of the grapes squash a bit. As it turns out, his wing-claws aren't enough to slow his momentum. 

"Sorry," he tells Will sadly, offering him the not-squashed grape. "I landed on one of them."

Will looks a lot calmer at this point. He reaches out and carefully licks the grape out of Tom's claws. Tom, seeing the size of Will's teeth as Will expertly starts to munch it, is very grateful Will opted not to use them for grape retrieval. 

Will makes a startled noise and gulps it down once he gets a proper taste. "These are the good ones," Tom tells him authoritatively. "They get eaten fast when the Big Creatures bring them."

Apart from him flicking an ear uneasily, mention of the Big Creatures does not deter Will in the slightest. He eats Joe's grape and then the squashed grape with every evidence of enjoyment, so much so that Tom is delighted to go get some more. Will still isn't always comfortable with all of them bringing him food, but he seems to have forgotten that entirely at the moment. 

It takes five more grapes, two further sessions of steady trekking, and one other break before they finally reach their old roost. Will is trembling again with tiredness and does not protest when Ben ushers him to the nearest little hanging drapery a brother can tangle himself in safely above the ground if he doesn't want to sleep properly. 

"Thank you for everything," Will tells Tom and Joe, blinking at them solemnly from his new position. The hanging drapery is higher above the ground than the hanging roost, but it still is too far for either Tom or Joe to stretch from the ceiling straight into it.

"You're welcome!" Tom squeaks, faster than Joe. See? Tom definitely has manners, he doesn’t know what Ben is talking about!

"You, too," Will tells Ben next, and follows it up by curling his tongue around the other large bat's snout. Ben sputters and flaps his wings, probably at Will doing something so intimate—even Tom knows you're not supposed to lick other Brethren's noses—but, unusually, doesn't utter a squeak about impropriety. Maybe Ben doesn't feel like telling a bat bigger than he is what is Proper? --Or no: Tom sees what it is. Ben has situated himself right next to Will so that they could be claw-locked if they wished. Well, Tom supposes generously, it isn't as though Ben is small enough to fit under Will's wing, so he supposes Ben can have that.

Oh, well. Roost, sweet roost! Tom whiffles in contentment at being back in their usual roost. Best of all, Will seems happy enough where he is hanging so closely next to Ben, even if he is blinking sleepily. Tom can relate—he’s tired himself from the constant retrieval of grapes for Will and the excitement of the day in general.

"May I?" Tom cheeps at Will's elbow, putting all the plaintiveness he has learned to use with Ben into it. Behind Will, Tom sees Ben's eyes slitting shut with satisfaction; success!

Will's sleepy blink turns into a gigantic yawn, but he lifts his wing anyway and Tom finds himself free to wriggle into the warmth of Will’s creche-space. Will chitters quietly as he brings his wing snugly around Tom, accepting Tom without any fuss. Tom closes his eyes and snuffles into the soft fur of Will’s chest. Will has the best wing-cradle. Comfortable and warm as he is, Tom thinks he sure is glad that Will joined the Colony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to @MagicalTear and @Ailendolin for keeping the bat-love alive!!!


End file.
